


How I Met My Spark

by PencilTrash



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hunter Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Mage Stiles Stilinski, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mates, Minor Character Death, Sparks are mage’s power-boosters, hunters and werewolves cold war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-05 19:46:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5388032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PencilTrash/pseuds/PencilTrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Stiles still remembered the day when he’d managed to flicker his first magic flash into life. In his excitement, he’d flailed in surprise, causing the flash to fly right over Deaton’s head. And, no one had seen a single strand of hair on Deaton’s head since.</em><br/>[aka, Stiles is a hunter and a mage with missing magic spark and Derek...well, Derek is <em>Stiles' spark</em>]</p>
            </blockquote>





	How I Met My Spark

**Author's Note:**

> Please read all tags before reading!
> 
> Thank you [Jonjo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Jonjo) and [sterekfluffer](http://archiveofourown.org/users/teampancakes/pseuds/sterekfluffer) for the beta work. You guys are amazing <3
> 
>  
> 
> **Derek is in his human form in this story. However, hunter Stiles refers him - ‘the wolf’**

 

Stiles moved, feeling uncomfortable and irritated, dangling his legs from the rough surface of the giant tree branch. He adjusted his awkward position one more time, so it would hurt his junk a little less. It had been two hours since he’d started his guard duty of Hunter Town and not a single damn living thing had turned up so far.

Almost unconsciously, he snapped his fingers playing with a tiny flash of his magic white light, on and off, just to pass time.

He was a mage and had been training with Deaton for quite a few years now.

Stiles still remembered the day when he’d managed to flicker his first magic flash into life. In his excitement, he’d flailed in surprise, causing the flash to fly right over Deaton’s head. And, no one had seen a single strand of hair on Deaton’s head since.

Of course, Stiles was improving now. He'd learned to produce small fireballs, which he frequently used to light the coals at their weekly barbecues. He’d mastered sending soothing vibes, which were quite handy for calming down cranky kids in the neighbourhood or a cranky Scott. And he was quite comfortable with his air suction trick, which he generally used to fix blocked kitchen sinks.

Stiles googled a lot and knew his magic needed a _spark_ – a connection, a person, a friend, a mate - to channel his strengths, to anchor his powers and most importantly, to boost his magic.

His great great great grandma – the last known mage of the country - had found her spark, who apparently was Stiles’ great great great grandpa, when she’d turned thirty and then lived happily ever after with him.

It was a known fact that mages gained their power from their spark.

The more powerful a spark was, the mightier their mage would be.  

Stiles’ grandpa was a simple, pure human, and still, Stiles had heard legends about how she’d kicked many asses just because she had found her human spark and learned control with his help.

Stiles let out a heavy sigh, losing himself to the pleasing memories of the night before. The night of fun, food and stolen booze. The night of his eighteenth birthday party.

Even before his hangover could wear off, Gerard Argent had summoned him for the boring guard duty at the northern entrance to the town. _Goddammit!_ That was so wrong, Stiles thought. But, when did Gerard do anything which was remotely not-wrong?

Gerard was the leader of the Hunter Town. He’d spent long periods of his youth roaming around mysterious cities in all the darkest corners of the world, learning powerful magic. Black magic.

Luckily, he was not a born mage, like Stiles. But, he was trained, experienced and… cruel.

Gerard hated all other supernatural species with all his heart, especially the wolves.

There was a rumor that he was the real mastermind behind the brutal fire in neighboring Beacon Town. The fire had destroyed the entire population of wolves in the town. There was also a rumor that, in reality, he was after the mystic Triskelion that had belonged to the wolves for generations.

After that incident, a never-ending cold war arose between the Hunters and the Beacons.

Stiles might not have met a wolf yet, and even though the wolves were lesser in number than they had been when he was a little boy, they seemed pretty determined and sneaky and hence the regular guard duties.

Gerald had been powerful before, but he was unstoppable now.

Victoria Argent, Gerard’s second-in-command, had questioned Gerard’s authority and was found cold and dead the very next day. Doctor Valack, the formidable hunter and possessor of a third eye, moved around Gerard like his obedient dog. Even his own father, John Stilinski, only spoke in hushed tones whenever he mentioned Gerard. And, Stiles had absolutely no doubt that Gerard had managed to get his hands on the Triskelion somehow.

Stiles knew his dad was up to something. He had watched him conducting not-so-secret meetings with the McCalls and the Martins. He’d also (accidentally) eavesdropped on the calls at odd hours from Chris Argent.  He knew the elders were slowly gathering their forces against Gerard. But, they were in desperate need of support. They needed someone who possessed a massive stock of magic that matched Gerard’s.

…someone like Stiles.

Well – Stiles, when he had somehow figured out his spark and triggered the latent magic that was probably hidden in the depth of his gut or something.

_“Laura…”_

Stiles almost slipped out of the tree on hearing a sudden hiss that broke through the quiet night. “Shit!” he clutched at the branch, steadying himself. Luckily, he was protected by his shield – a trick he’d recently mastered - so the concerned person below wouldn’t hear any noise.

A massive ball of black fur zoomed past right under his feet, even before he could blink.

_Holy shit! A wolf!_

A wolf in Hunter Town.

Stiles’ heart skipped a beat. He gaped dumbfounded as he watched the bright, crimson aura of a gigantic wolf retreating. An _Alpha_ wolf.

“Laura, wait. Damn it!”

Stiles focused all his senses on the exasperated grunt that followed. _Perfect!_ The Alpha wolf had company. Quickly, he shifted his mage focus to track the real source of the sound.

It was a young man. Maybe a couple of years older than him.

Stiles got a glimpse of his approaching sturdy figure - black leather jacket and all - but what captured Stiles’ attention most was his gleaming crystal blue aura. An aura which was radiant like the morning sun, yet soothing like moonlight. Powerful and peaceful at the same time. And Stiles was…lost.

His chest tightened with an inexplicable tug he felt for that unfamiliar aura.

The _wolf’s_ aura.

Stiles winced, suddenly remembering the purpose of his guard duty. The two wolves were invading the hunters’ territory, which meant only one thing – danger.

Immediately, he balanced his body, crouching on the branch, alert and waiting. He might have missed the path of the Alpha but, he was certainly not going to allow _this one_ to sneak away.

Patiently he waited those ten interminable seconds - wiggling his fingers, biting his lip, his heart rabbiting - before the said wolf was a foot away, right below his ass. Then, he relaxed his body and…jumped.

“Gotcha – Ooooof!”

The air was punched out of his lungs the moment his body rammed into the wolf’s, which felt like a brick wall.

But, he was happy about the overall outcome of his leap. He had somehow  managed to end up on top of the wolf, his knees either side of his chest. The wolf was flat on his back, shocked and scowling, flashing his electric blue eyes and sharp fangs, maybe wondering _how_ his super sharp senses had missed the attack.

Stiles was a mage. He could have easily sent a series of his pathetic electric shocks or a giant fluffy snowball or at least used his shield to cover his very breakable body, but of course, Stiles had chosen to _jump_ right on top of the fully grown werewolf.  An angry werewolf. Before Stiles could celebrate the victory of his successful capture, he was already shoved back and rolled over so that he was underneath the wolf and their positions were reversed. _Great!_

The wolf snarled at Stiles, pinning his back to the ground. His big, warm palm firmly pressed over Stiles’ thudding heart.

Stiles knew the wolf could hear the pounding beats. He watched as the wolf’s eyebrows drew together which very much felt like - _confusion._ The next moment, his wide eyes flickered from their gleaming blue to their normal human form. And _God!_ Those pale, hazel pair was even more beautiful…enchanting.

_Shit! Wolf. Danger. Monsters. Enemies…._

In panic, Stiles mentally recited a few highlights of Gerard’s regular speeches, trying to get his brain to work right and ignore how warm and alluring the wolf felt to him.

“What are you?” the wolf hissed, grinding his teeth, maybe attempting to intimidate Stiles with his wolfy, macho _everything_ , but not quite hurting him.

Stiles’ lips twitched into a smirk. “Dude, this is the Hunter Town. Shouldn’t _I_ be the one asking you that question?” He moved his hips to balance the heavy heap of muscles pressing down on his body. The action made their position even more awkward.

The wolf’s thick eyebrows furrowed more and Stiles knew he was minutes away from trying something very destructive. The wolf was the enemy after all. Maybe, Stiles should do _something_ before the wolf decided to punch, claw, abduct or kill him.

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut, scanning his memory for anything useful he had learnt from his training sessions. For the first time in his life he regretted not paying attention to Deaton’s boring lectures. Swiftly, he moved his fingers to curl around the wolf’s wrist.

_Yep…Breathe. Relax. Focus. And, attack!_

Stiles remembered the day he’d tried this mantra for three hours straight.

That day, he couldn’t move a single dry leaf from the ground. Not even an inch. It was as if it had been stuck there for a lifetime. A leaf.

But now, Stiles felt sudden heat radiate through his palm. He felt _different_. He snapped his eyes open only to find a gleaming blue light illuminating his own hand which was tightly locked around the wolf’s wrist. A phantom flow of energy seeped through his veins, strong and rejuvenating. He gaped as the _blue_ gradually spread around both their bodies as if an extra layer of a glowing blanket.

 _Hoooly shit!_ Stiles was definitely out of his mind, because…

_…Attack!_

He repeated, sending out a tiny flash from his newly collected magic stock that hit right at the wolf’s torso.

The wolf floated in the air for a moment, glaring down at Stiles, stunned and wary, before landing flat on his face next to Stiles.

 _Whoa!_ Did he just –

Of course, Stiles – can't even move a dry leaf - Stilinski had totally kicked the wolf’s ass. The. _Wolf’s_. Ass. Actually, he might have just absorbed the wolf’s power and turned it – _W-wait…_

It took him a few seconds before the realization hit, and hit hard.

Stiles had pictured this moment a million times before, at least: his meeting with his spark.

He’d a strong belief that the moment would be special - like fireworks blazing in the dark sky, like a favorite, old melody on a violin, like the first rain on dry forest land, like a shining Christmas tree, like…magic.

“Fuck! You are _my_ _spark._ ” Stiles muttered, lower than a whisper.

“What?” the wolf grunted, lifting his body up onto his hands, looking mad. Furious.

The moment looked anything but special.

There was no way the wolf had missed Stiles’ remark. Maybe, Stiles should explain. The mage, the spark, their magical _thing_. He should definitely explain, especially after the attack and all.

Before Stiles could open his mouth, the wolf suddenly whipped around and glared into the gloomy dark of the forest. After the new boost in his abilities, even Stiles could hear the approaching footsteps.

 _Oh God!_ It was almost midnight and Gerard must be out on his routine rounds.

It was not even a full _minute_ since he’d finally found his spark and things had already started going downhill. Stiles knew, the moment Gerard got his hands on the wolf, he would kill him.

Gerard would kill Stiles next, if he tried protecting the wolf or for being magically bonded to the wolf. Stiles had no doubt about that.

Before Stiles could get his focus back, the wolf had already started running, maybe taking an advantage of Stiles’ moment of distraction.

“Wait, don’t-” Stiles dashed after him. “They’ll kill you. Damn it!”

The wolf was racing towards the depths of the hunters’ forest, towards Gerard, towards his death and Stiles had started freaking out.

Desperately, Stiles shot badly aimed fireballs into the ground near the wolf’s feet. He didn’t want to hurt him. How could he? He just wanted to scare him, well uh – distract him. Stop him somehow. The voices were coming closer and Stiles had no damn clue how much time the wolf had before -

Stiles felt the gears of his brain turn fast. Even before he finished the thought, a solid flash of light jumped out of his hand, squeezing the air between him and the wolf. Then, Stiles pulled. Hard.

“What are you doing?”The wolf roared while he was getting dragged in Stiles’ direction, like an animated puppet. His back rammed into Stiles’ front.

The impact made the boy topple over onto the ground, technically leaving the wolf on his lap. The next beat, his shield was up and around them, strong and protective. Around both of them.

“I’m saving your wolfy ass,” Stiles replied, watching as the wolf’s legs helplessly skidded over the forest floor, fighting against the unnatural force of Stiles’ solid pull.

Any other day, Stiles would have enjoyed the phenomenal feeling of his newly discovered powers.  But, never in his wildest dream had he thought about testing his magic on his own spark.

Stiles was feeling bad for behaving like an asshole but really, he had just been trying to help. He was ready to go down on his knees and beg for forgiveness for all the stupid mistakes he’d made on their very first meeting...or maybe not. Stiles grunted painfully as the wolf’s elbow hit him right in his gut.

His spark was kind of an asshole too.

He immediately grabbed the wolf’s wrist again – the easiest part of his body to reach - and focused. The wolf calmed down a little, as gentle waves of Stiles’ soothing magic seeped through his skin.

_“I think we should do it now.”_

Stiles recognized that voice. It was Doctor Valack. Stiles could also hear other hunters shuffling around. Immediately, he scrambled back, tugging the wolf along with him, taking cover behind a tree.

“Let go -”

“Shhh...” Stiles clamped his hand on the wolf’s mouth instinctively. He was so scared that he’d completely forgotten that his shield was up and the hunters couldn’t actually hear the wolf. “Will you…stop moving… _please?_ ” Stiles begged to the struggling wolf.

_“Well, well. What do we have here?”_

Gerard’s voice echoed in surroundings. He was talking to someone, sounding amused and teasing, as if scrutinizing some freshly made pie dish.

 _“I knew there were two missing when we’d counted eleven dead wolves from the Hale house. Where’s_ Derek _? Is he lurking around in the bushes, huh?”_

The wolf shuddered and squirmed at hearing Gerard’s voice and Stiles realized they must have had some history to share. Stiles felt a sudden rush of _protectiveness_ shoot straight up through his gut. He tightened his grip around the wolf.

 _Derek…_ the name rang in his ears like a tinkling bell. He tilted his neck to get a better look at the wolf’s face, his heart thumping against the wolf’s back. Stiles knew he couldn’t fight the group of hunters all by himself yet, but he could at least use his shield and help the wolf to find his own way back, somewhere safe, away from the hunters - away from him. His heart shuddered at the last thought.

There was a violent ruffling of leaves and a loud snarl, as if an animal was fighting hard to break free, tugging against some inhuman shackles.

“Lau…” the wolf – Derek – muffled out a gasp and Stiles jerked his hand away from his mouth. Instead, he moved it to Derek’s chest, slipping his fingertips under the unzipped leather jacket, over his heart, to feel his pounding beats. He hoped the touch would have the same calming effect on Derek that he had on Stiles.

 _“Don’t worry. We’ll catch him,”_ Gerard chuckled, careless and cruel.

A howl reverberated cutting through the quiet night, sharp and mournful, and Derek twisted rigorously against Stiles’ grip, straining his neck out at the dark sky.

He howled in reply - desperate and trembling - not aware that his response was never going to break through Stiles’ magic walls. He struggled even more, kicking out with his legs, trying to claw at Stiles’ arms, writhing like a fish out of water.

“Jesus Christ! Just calm down. We’ll help your friend. Is that...is that your friend? I’m gonna release you now, okay? We’ll figure out -”

A metal clang against the hard surface. A sword. Gerard’s sword.

And, before he could actually process what was happening, there was a distinct sound of a sword slashing through the flesh.

Dead silence.

Stiles froze. A cold shiver ran down his spine. His brain suddenly shut off.

_No!_

Derek was not moving either. He didn’t even seem to be breathing, as if he was the one who was dead. 

“D-Derek?” Stiles called.

There was no response.

Frantically, Stiles adjusted his grip and cradled Derek closer, so they were at least facing each other, to check if he was _okay_.

Derek’s glassy eyes were wide open, looking blank and ghostly. His face was as white as chalk. Stiles was not sure if the wolf was even listening to him anymore.

“Derek!” Stiles repeated, louder this time. He shook Derek’s stock-still body.

Derek blinked. One traitorous tear escaped, trickling down from the corner of his eye, leaving a wet trail on his burning cheek. His horror-struck face crumpled in pain. His lip trembled as he tried to say something.

“Laura-” he broke into a choked sob and Stiles’ heart twisted in his chest on hearing the agonizing pain in Derek’s voice. Before he could think what he was doing, Stiles tugged Derek in a bone-crushing hug, supporting him as the wolf went limp in Stiles’ hold, as if the life had been drained out of him.

Stiles rocked Derek slowly, comforting the shivering wolf with light pats, wrapping him in the warm cover of his soothing magic. He swallowed down the thick lump in his throat, his eyes burning as he tried to hold back his own tears. He fluttered them shut.

Gerard had killed a wolf, who was connected to _his wolf_ \- a friend, family, pack - and Stiles couldn’t do a damn thing to help. Even with his newly boosted magic, he was too weak compared to Gerard. He was _nothing_. He dropped his forehead on Derek’s shoulder, breathing hard, feeling miserable. Useless.

His agitated heartbeat settled after a few moments, with his spark so close.

_His spark. His mate._

He dug his fingers in Derek’s jacket, desperately trying to cling more, wishing hard, pathetically, that his magic would somehow take all the misery away from his mate. Right now.

The moment lasted only for a second.

Suddenly, Derek went stiff in Stiles’ embrace. Then, his entire body started shaking violently.

Stiles snapped his eyes open, jerking away, thinking his magic was hurting Derek. He was already overwhelmed with the sequence of events of the night and wondered what _more_ could go wrong.

But -

Stiles’ entire body shuddered as sudden rush of energy flowed through every pore of his skin. His head felt dizzy with an overdose of the latent power that recharged every core of his insides, every drop of his blood. He shook his head and tried to get his focus back on Derek, who was sitting a few inches from him, ducking his head down, breathing in thick, labored gasps.

“Derek?” Stiles called, his voice cautious and concerned.

Derek lifted his head, slowly, glaring at Stiles with his glassy red eyes.

His _Alpha_ red eyes.

_Fuck!_

Stiles watched as his own magical blue aura swiftly transformed into vivid crimson, which exactly matched Derek’s eyes.

Stiles’ _Alpha_ aura gleamed like a ruby in a dark backdrop of the night. An aura, brighter than a hundred Suns.

An aura, capable of thrashing ten Gerard Argents!

 

**Author's Note:**

> * Comments/Kudos are gold!! They keeps motivating me to write more  
> 


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